


Good

by IdMonster



Category: The Handmaid's Tale (TV)
Genre: Backrubs, Dubious Consent, F/F, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-08
Updated: 2017-10-08
Packaged: 2019-01-10 01:54:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12288750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IdMonster/pseuds/IdMonster
Summary: Janine just wants to be good.





	Good

**Author's Note:**

  * For [scioscribe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scioscribe/gifts).



> Contains canon-typical misogyny, homophobia, and mentions of disturbing punishments.

_“I could never do what you do. What a burden, having to try to teach Godliness to sluts! You’re a better woman than me.”_

Lydia heard that all the time, from Aunts with different duties, from Wives, and occasionally (very politely) from Marthas. The phrasing varied, but the sentiment was always the same.

And always, she replied, “It’s not a burden at all. It’s a blessing.”

But they never understood. Instead, they would smile and repeat, “You’re a better woman than me.” And then Lydia would know they thought she was putting a brave face on a repulsive task. 

As if she would ever lie, even in so small a way. Lying was a sin. Liars got their mouths washed out with soap or their tongues given a little snip of the scissors, or their mouths sewn shut or their tongues cut out, depending on whether it was their first lie or one of many, or whether the liar was among a group of new girls who needed an unforgettable example of the wages of sin.

But Lydia knew no one would ever wash out _her_ mouth, let alone cut out her tongue, for calling a burden a blessing. That annoyed her as much as the assumption that she’d lie. If she had been lying, she shouldn’t be given praise and smiles. She should be punished. 

So she’d always try to explain what was so crystal clear in her mind, but seemed so hard for others to understand or believe.

“My girls arrive as the worst kind of sinners, and leave as meek vessels of a holy purpose,” she’d say. “I _love_ my work. How could I not?”

And then she’d change the subject or leave, so she didn’t need to see that condescending smile again. Hopefully the women would think on her words and come to know the truth of them later.

All of that flashed through Lydia’s mind as Janine entered her room. The once-brazen girl, whose foul mouth had forced Lydia to remove her eye, stood humble, meek, and silent, her head bowed respectfully. It was a beautiful sight. 

Lydia didn’t speak, waiting to see if Janine would begin to fidget impatiently. But she didn’t wait too long. Sometimes it was good to give the girls tests they were bound to fail, to teach them just how flawed they were, but that wasn’t what Lydia had in mind. The girl had already failed, already knew her flaws, had already been punished. Today Lydia wanted to help Janine become the pure vessel she was meant to be, so she wouldn’t need to be punished again.

“Close the door,” Lydia said.

Wordlessly, Janine closed it. The click and thud sounded very loud in the silent room. 

“Now kneel.”

Janine knelt. Her bent head sent her red-brown curls spilling over her shoulders. Soon she’d have them covered in white angel wings, so she wouldn’t tempt men with them. For some girls the temptation was only what was inherent in all females, but with Janine, it was far more than that. Those curls were a flagrant invitation to sinful pleasures. Lydia could easily imagine some sex-maddened man grabbing them in handfuls, running his fingers through them, savoring their springy texture. Taking pleasure in his own sin and hers…

Of course, nothing like that could happen in the Rachel and Leah Center. It was perfectly safe to let Janine leave her hair uncovered, even though it was as much of a call to sin as another girl's naked breasts.

“Look up,” said Lydia. 

Janine raised her face. The scarring over her socket had faded from its original angry red. It was healing very nicely. Her remaining eye looked huge, and seemed to silently plead to Lydia: _Have I done right? I'm not going to be punished now… am I?_

Lydia didn’t speak immediately, just to drive home the lesson in silence. As they waited, she rolled her shoulders slightly, wincing at the audible crack. Her back ached; her back always ached.

“Very good,” Lydia said, after a minute or two had passed. “You knelt correctly. And you were silent and humble, like a little mouse.”

Janine smiled, but her eye continued to plead. But for what, Lydia could no longer tell. 

“Is there something you wish to say?” Lydia asked. 

“Does your back hurt?” Janine’s voice was husky, and she coughed when she finished speaking. Lydia was pleased to hear it. Janine had obviously obeyed Lydia’s order not to speak unless given permission, even to whisper at night in the dorms. 

“No—” Lydia began, then realized that it would be a lie. “Yes, a little.”

“I could rub it for you!” Janine’s voice burst forth eagerly, startling Lydia with its brashness. Her eye fixed on Lydia, Janine instantly flinched. Then, more softly, she went on, “I used to do that for my mom. She was on her feet all day too. You could just lie down there, and I’d do it for you. I— I’d like to. For all you’ve done for me.”

Lydia was so startled by the offer that she didn’t know how to respond. No girl had ever made that suggestion before. There were no rules about it. 

Janine lifted her hands, which were trembling slightly. “See? I’m strong. It’d feel good, I promise. I mean, I’d do a good job. You work so hard, someone should do something for you.”

Lydia _did_ work hard. And though Janine wasn’t the first to say so, she was the first to offer to do something about it. It was a beautiful display of the virtues Lydia worked so hard to cultivate in the girls. She ought to encourage it.

“That’s a very unselfish offer, Janine. Thank you.” 

Lydia took off her shoes, then lay face-down on her bed. She felt Janine kneel over her, so their thighs were touching lightly, and lay her hands on Lydia’s neck. Slowly, she began to rhythmically squeeze Lydia’s tight muscles until they relaxed. 

Lydia gave a sigh of contentment. Janine _did_ have strong hands. Her proximity enveloped Lydia in warmth and some light scent. 

As the girl began to slowly work her way downward, Lydia’s thoughts drifted in a pleasant haze. She literally couldn’t recall the last time anyone had touched her. No wonder her back hurt all the time. 

When Janine reached the small of her back, squeezing more gently and lightly in that sensitive area, Lydia regretted that soon the backrub would be done. But instead, the girl kept going. Of course she avoided Lydia’s backside, but slid her hands along her hips to rub the muscles there, and then moved them up again to squeeze her thighs. 

Lydia’s legs did ache too. How perceptive of Janine to notice and massage the pain out of them. And how thoughtful, Janine was taking off her stockings to rub her feet. Surely it would be over now...

But instead, Janine began working her way back up. Her palms were so warm and smooth, they seemed to spread heat through Lydia’s whole body. It wasn’t until Janine was back up to her thighs that Lydia realized that this time, the hands were under her skirt rather than on top of it. There was no longer a barrier of cloth, but skin touching skin. Flesh touching flesh.

The realization didn’t come as a shock, but as a slow awareness. By the time Lydia was thinking of it, Janine had already been doing it for some time, without a peep from Lydia. Well, and why should Lydia object? Janine’s hands had been on the bare flesh of Lydia’s neck right from the start. There was nothing wrong with that, or with what she was doing now. Janine had said it herself, this was something she'd do for her own mother. A simple kindness, innocent and chaste. Medicinal, even.

Lydia found herself shifting to accommodate Janine, letting her thighs part to give her easier access. The muscles there were used with every movement, every step. They needed care. It felt so good to have the soreness worked out. 

The pleasure of that healing touch spread deliciously through Lydia’s body. Like eating chocolates. If she only did it occasionally, there was no greed in it. No sin. She had a box of them by her bedside now. A small box with only three left, one to savor every night. One fudge, one strawberry cream, one cherry. When she bit into the cherry bonbon, the chocolate shell cracked and sticky liquid spurted into her mouth, sweet, so sweet, so sweet—!

A tremendous release surged through her, making a muffled groan burst from her lips. 

Then she was suddenly, hideously aware of her body. Her sweaty belly pressed into the thin mattress. Her heart pounding like it was trying to break through the cage of her ribs. Janine’s fingers slipping out of her, wet. The _smell_ , the odor of sin. Abomination!

_No._

Lydia forced herself to calm. She knew what Unwomen did. One played the man and one the woman, defying God’s division of the sexes. They stripped naked and licked each other’s private parts. They made penises from rubber and stuck them in each other in a sterile mockery of the holy act of procreation.

What Janine had done was nothing like that. She had simply given Lydia a massage for aching muscles, an innocent and tender act like a daughter might perform for her beloved mother. Lydia had enjoyed it in the same way that she enjoyed a hot bath. There was no sin in that. 

Lydia was an Aunt. Janine would be a Handmaid. Nothing that happened between them could be anything but chaste and holy.

Though there could be, perhaps, the false perception that something improper had happened…

Lydia twisted around to look up at Janine, suddenly anxious. But Janine’s crooked smile was both innocent and knowing. Relief flooded Lydia. Janine would never speak a word of this. 

“Am I good?” whispered Janine. “I want to be good for you.”

It warmed Lydia’s heart to hear how the girl had changed her tune. A few more months, and Janine wouldn’t be able to believe herself that she’d once cursed at Lydia.

“You should want to be good for God,” Lydia replied. She listened to her own voice, calm and steady as if nothing had happened. Because nothing _had_ happened.

Janine nodded, sending her wild curls bouncing. “I mean good for God. I want to be good for God.” 

Lydia sat up and stroked Janine’s soft cheek. Her fingers strayed to the scar where Janine’s eye had been. The girl flinched, then held herself still, trembling. 

“There’s a long, hard road ahead of you,” Lydia said. “But I believe in you. And God believes in you. You’re his blessed child.”

Janine’s remaining eye turned up hopefully, and Lydia knew what she wanted to hear. Well, the girl _had_ been good. She deserved a reward. 

Lydia lifted the lid from the little box on her bedside table and showed Janine the bonbons inside. “Which do you like best, fudge, strawberry, or cherry?”

“Cherry!” Janine said eagerly.

Lydia selected the chocolate-covered cherry and held it up. Janine opened her mouth like a baby bird, letting Lydia pop it in. Her soft lips closed over Lydia’s fingers, and her hot wet tongue flicked over them, searching out every last trace of sweetness. Smiling, Lydia withdrew her fingers and watched as Janine chewed and swallowed, an expression of ecstasy on her face, until nothing remained but the tiniest smudge of shiny syrup at the corner of her lips. 

Lydia dabbed it away with her moistened finger. “I’m so proud of you, Janine. You’re a good girl. _My_ good girl.”


End file.
